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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

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whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 5 of ?)

gif by my literal angel @michaelgreys who keeps blessing us like holy fuck

a/n: all i can say is that this is the hottest one yet. as always, my girl @stxdyblr-2k did an amazing job so i hope you all enjoy :) and i'm still working on requests, tysm for all of them!!

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland

prompt: john just can't help himself when he sees you with someone else.

warnings: nsfw!!! smut, fluff, angst, light praise kink, john fucking adores you and spends a good amount of time with his head between your legs (yes i know!!!!!)

John had spotted you from across the London nightclub, his table tucked into the balcony area, perfectly positioned to survey the entire club. It'd been over a month since he laid eyes on you last. Sometimes, he wondered if it was possible for you to only get more beautiful every time he saw you. He wasn't surprised, as he'd been warned of your presence by Tommy, but he was unable to stop himself from staring at you, hair neatly styled, scarlet velvet dress clinging to every curve, red lipstick emphasizing your lips, a light haze of pink pressed into your cheekbones, lash-line expertly darkened with kohl. You were dancing with one of Isaiah's friends; the young man was tall and muscular -- a blinder foot soldier, John concluded, draining his glass of whiskey, flagging the waiter down for another.

The young lad was smiling down at you. John took a swig from his drink bitterly, the man obviously head over heels, his eyes bright, excitedly glancing from your lips to your figure. John could feel himself cringe; the younger man had all the subtlety and strategy of a malnourished dog. Then again, who could blame the lad? You were an absolute vision, twirling and giggling, off your face on something Michael had brought. John couldn't help but watch, wishing it was him who had caught your attention tonight, wanting to feel your breath fan across his neck, pulling away while you giggled at his blushing arousal; him whisking you to dark corners to steal a moment of quiet.

He'd tried to get over you but he couldn't. He'd been travelling a lot lately, business in Liverpool, Edinburgh and Belfast; yet in every woman who smiled at him, he found himself searching for you in their eyes, their smiles, their laugh. They were all gorgeous, but his heart simply wasn't in it.

Tonight had started off alright, normal Peaky activity. They'd seized the club only a few hours ago, gaining vital territory in London, bagging their place in the opiate trade and a successful business prospect in one fell swoop. By all accounts, John should’ve been happy, but he'd been too lost in his own mind lately to properly take in the consequences of those sleepless nights with the accounting books, all the hours practicing shooting and boxing, all the endless driving, the meetings, the lingering stench of death which clung to his family. Try as he might, he couldn't enjoy himself. His night got worse the second he spotted you; a yearning for you suddenly flooding his veins. It was easy to get on with life when you were hundreds of miles from him, but when you were a flight of stairs away? He knew the club had countless dark passages to hide away with you, multiple cloak rooms with thick brick walls to take you against: he had to stop his mind running wild. He couldn't. That had to be the last time. You were in his past, you had to stay there. But as he watched you dance with the blinder, he could feel the familiar burn of jealousy swell deep within him. The lad was far too close to you for his comfort, practically grazing his hips to yours. John roughly rubbed his jaw at the sight, silently seething to himself in the shadows.

Thomas studied his brother's body language, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, not understanding the fuss around you. Sure, you were pretty enough; you were bright, apparently funny, but you had never caught his attention really. He observed how John's eyes followed your every move, every sway of your hips closely watched as he held his breath, losing himself to you. He was glad he'd prompted Michael to invite you; this was the most attentive he'd seen John in a month. It was no coincidence that he'd dragged you away from Birmingham, from the watching eyes of the city locals, the wagging tongues in the assembly lines, far from Ada. Michael had admitted to Thomas that it was easy to persuade you, promising you a lift in his new car and a night out as Ada had plans with a gentleman. A night of dancing with your favourite lads and an all expenses paid trip to London? You couldn't resist.

John's jaw had tensed and squared, the man murmuring something against your neck causing you to giggle and grasp his collar. Thomas could tell his brother was practically bristling with jealousy. If looks could kill, the young man clinging to your hips would be long dead from the glare unleashed on him by the tallest Shelby brother.

"You gonna sit there useless or are you gonna fucking do something about it, eh?" Tommy inquired, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I can't."

"No one will know." Thomas pointed out, raising a brow, "The Blinders will say fuck all if they see owt. They keep quiet when it's about us Shelby brothers, yeah?"

John glanced at him, eyes slightly widened, confusion furrowing his brows. "You've changed your fuckin' tune."

"Sometimes, it's good to have secrets. What Ada doesn't know about the events of tonight won't hurt her."

"We don't do secrets. We're meant to trust each other." John objected. "We're a family."

"Nothing will change, John. I'll fix it for you, yeah? You've had a rough few weeks, you should reward yourself."

"She's not a fuckin’ prize, Tom."

"Keep talking that shit and people will get the wrong idea, think you love the woman or sommet." Thomas shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, while John's cheeks flared, his eyes flinching to the floor. He smirks to himself. "You going to go get your lass, then?"

John replied wordlessly, standing and downing the rest of his drink, pulling on his suit jacket, straightening his collar. "I'll catch you later, Tom."

********

The lad was nice, his name had long disappeared into the fog of liquor and Tokyo. He was someone's cousin, but he was polite; charming, almost. Most importantly, he wasn't related to your best friend. Not quite a Casanova type like John, but you two were a good match, everyone thought so. You'd seen him a few times now over the past week. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was a good dancer, and sweet after a few pints.

The band started playing a slower song, Isaiah dancing chest to chest with a beautiful girl across from you. You felt your partner place his fingers on the small of your back, his fingers inching lower, pulling you in closer before the two of you were interrupted by a dark figure looming over you.

"Can I cut in, mate?" A strong Birmingham accent sliced through the air, voice low and polite enough, but with a tone that was laced with venom. "Or are you gonna be a dick about it?"

The lad glanced nervously between you two, moving his hands away from you, embarrassed to be caught by his boss in this state, John staring him down. You slowly pulled away from him, turning to face John.

"Or you could ask me to dance yourself, John?"

John silently glared back at you, his mouth tensed into a thin line. He looked momentarily embarrassed, his attention switching back to your dance partner, the rest of lads silently watching, breaths baited, ready to jump in on the action if the moment required it.

"I'm heading off mate, reckon she's a cocktease." Your partner comments, attempting to diffuse the tension, stepping away, not wanting a fight or to piss off his boss. His path was quickly blocked by another blinder. You shot him an apologetic look and took the large hand John was offering you.

"Or, she's just not interested in you," John quipped, smirking, locking his fingers through yours. "You gonna go get your coat while I finish up with your best mate?"

"Thought we were dancing?"

"You can dance as much as you like in the suite, yeah? Proper gramophone. You coming?"

"You just want me on my own."

"Just tired of the distractions." He told you pointedly, skimming his glare over the group of men, standing with baited breath, preparing for it to kick off.

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hands, slowly heading to the cloakroom, chatting with the attendant as you watched John confront the lad, keeping your distance. His arms were clutching the lad's lapels, snarling in his face before pushing him back. Michael watched from a few steps away, smoking absentmindedly, spine pressed to a pillar, leaving his cousin to sort out whatever offense he believed the man had caused.

You bundled yourself up in your thin coat, a gift from one of the girls you hung around with as she had recently married a blinder and was being spoiled rotten. The coat's flimsy material was going to be useless against the London night. At least you could count on John to keep you warm on the walk back to the hotel. You headed towards the side door, John's hand quickly finding your lower back protectively as he fell into step beside you. He opened the heavy wooden doors for you, the cold air an instant relief from the heat of the nightclub. You turned back as the door closed, catching a glimpse of the boys closing in on the lad, their eyes gleaming with a violent hunger for action.

"He'll be alright. Daft prick just getting put in his place." John said flatly. He seemed bored but watched you anxiously, begging you with his eyes to drop the subject.

"Is the hotel close by?" You asked casually, as the frigid air swirled around your calves, instantly causing you to shiver.

"I'll get us a cab, love, can't have you in those heels trekking halfway across London town." He stepped fearlessly into the road, unbothered about any potential danger or just forgetful from the whiskey. Quickly, a dark cab pulled up to the cobblestone pavement and John helped you in, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing in after you.

As the engine started and the car made its way through London's dimly lit streets to Camden, John's hand found its way to your thigh. You glanced at him, his eyes looking away but his thumb angled against his teeth. He was nervous, having not touched you in a month. You crossed your legs, angling them towards him, his hand shifting higher up your thighs, taking a deep sigh of relief. Your hands found his chin in the gloom of the back of the car, only the occasional bright lights from a nightlife hub or the demure lights of a residential illuminating his face, the angles changing as the cab drove on. It was too much. You'd been needing this for the past month, needing him. Your hands laced around the back of his head and you pressed your lips to his for a brief moment, allowing John to pull you deeper into the kiss. It awoke something familiar inside you, something comforting. Kissing John erased all your homesickness. Christ, you had to stop thinking like this.

"You've not been about for a bit, sweetheart. I know we said never again, but I was hoping you'd come by," John muttered, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours as he spoke.

"I almost did. The amount of times I nearly visited your office.. I just couldn't do that to you or Ada. Besides, last I heard, you were on tour." You admitted, keeping your voice down to save the cab driver the embarrassment. John caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, tracing the corner of your mouth, prompting a grin from you.

"Last place on earth I'd expected to see you next, it's been hectic my end," He sighed. His eyes were outlined with deep purple smudges of exhaustion, yet he was still devastatingly beautiful even after all the sleepless nights. "It's been too long."

"Not my fault you've been hiding yourself away. You should've called."

"Blame Tommy for that. His solution seems to be sending me on business trips. Trying to make me too tired to handle you." A nervous lick of his lips revealed John’s response to the suggestion that he call you. He wanted to say he would ring next time, but there couldn't be a next time.

"You can barely handle me on a good day, Mr. Shelby."

"Can't blame me. You seen yourself? On the brink as soon as I see you, lass." He teased, earning a gentle shove to the shoulder as you quickly pressed a kiss underneath his chin. You wanted to bring up Thomas' threat, but you bit your tongue, nudging his shin with the toe of your heel in the back of the cab. He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrists lightly. "Behave yourself in front of the nice cabbie, sweetheart."

You soften at his touch, unable to resist reaching to interlock your fingers, squeezing his hands in yours affectionately. The spirits your table had been bringing you all night definitely boosted your confidence, any hesitancy due to potential rejection drowned out. John pressed his lips to your knuckles in response. He seemed different tonight, far more protective and serious than usual. He was so quiet it was strange, usually yapping your ear off, desperate for you to react, treating him to a giggle, a middle finger or a cutting response. You'd also never witnessed him spark off due to someone's interaction with you. Finn had mentioned a week or so back that John had a shouting match with Thomas and in the moment, your name got thrown up in the conversation, resulting in John taking a swing at his big brother out of frustration. It was confusing. He was willing to start fights over you, punch his brother, yet when you two were alone he was uncomfortably quiet, studying you, lost in his thoughts. His silence only made your body long for him, his fingers tracing patterns in your inner thigh. You let out a small whimper into the crook of his neck, as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The car pulled up outside the hotel, your pulse racing, the anticipation already threatening to make you give in completely to his wishes tonight. You waited as he turned up his collar against the rain, clambering out of the car to open your door, creatively arranging the coat to hover just above both your heads protecting you from the miserable weather. Although John had referred to the building as a hotel, you could instantly tell the manor was some aristocrat's third or fourth home, obviously being rented out or gifted to business partners for trips. It was an imposing grey stone building, exquisitely carved, although not a country estate, the house was just as large. Was John used to this? It hit you all of a sudden that you'd never set foot inside John's home. You'd heard from Ada that it was overrun with hoards of screaming children. She often joked with the children at the Shelby Institute that if they hung around long enough at John's, he'd assume they were one of his offspring. You'd only ever fucked him in a guest bed. The shame made your stomach churn.

You needed to remind yourself of this when your late night thoughts ran rampant. John could say what he liked, but he'd never actually allow you to get overly personal with him. Whatever confusing mess was winding around your skull regarding him was useless; it was best not to think about it. You went to him every time, yet he would've picked another lass tonight, it was just that you were there. He probably had a string of gorgeous women, older, more accomplished, more experienced, more elegant. He could tell you he missed you, but you could never take for granted that he told you this for any other reason than as a prelude to get you in bed with him. You were his gorgeous mess, but only for the night. It was best to remind yourself to care less than he did. It was the easiest solution in the long term; this way, the downfall would be less brutal.

"You alright, love?" He asked suddenly, breaking your train of thought.

"Sorry, I was thinking about work."

He lived around his brothers for long enough, he could smell bullshit. He decided to let it go. It was best to not push it tonight. Just keep it light hearted, easy, like it was always meant to be.

"If your boss keeps being a prick, you tell Ada. She'll sort him out."

"Don't I know it? He can barely open the door before she starts on about workplace ethics." You joked, earning a small smile instead of his usual bright chuckle. "John, what are we doing here?"

"Well I'm about to take you upstairs and sort you out, yeah? You gonna let me look after you?" He asked, stopping you in your tracks by turning you into him, grabbing your wrist.

"You know that isn't what I meant."

"I know. But can we leave it tonight? Can we just have fun?" He questioned, lips ghosting over yours, fixing you with an intense stare.

"It's fun anymore." Your voice cracked, the liquor in your system making it impossible to control your tone or your facial expressions. "It's fucking with my head, John."

"It's just.. fucking difficult. It's fucking difficult because of who we are." He replied firmly but dropped his makeshift coat shelter around your shoulders, freeing his hands to grab your face pulling it to his, the alcohol making him far needier than he usually appeared. "You, my beautiful Y/N, are a fucking losing game. It's not as easy for me, I can't just dance with a woman and get a leg over-"

"I never said you couldn't."

"I know, I.." He gestured vaguely, lifting one of his hands off your cheeks, and you can feel your head nodding in understanding. "You know, I thought I was going to manage it this time. That I wouldn't be a total fuck up, but then you and that lad-"

"Catch you getting jealous over me."

"Fuck off." He let go of you for a split second but you reeled him back in, resting your palms on the chest of his shirt, the soaked material sticking to his skin. You'd struck a nerve. You decided to push him further.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, Mr. Shelby, disappearing across the country for weeks then coming back and telling me you want me all to yourself?" You played with his collar, tugging his face to yours before pulling back at the last possible second, causing him to let out a frustrated groan, hands itching to feel you underneath them.

"Don't fucking wind me up," He snapped, the intensity between you rekindled momentarily.

"It's worked wonders in the past," You replied, barely able to finish your sentence before his mouth was on yours, his fingers tangling into your hair, kissing you properly. Although you'd kissed so many times prior, this one felt so genuine, as though unleashed from its restraints deep within John. You'd never kissed anyone in the rain before in the middle of the night, and it felt magical. You were shivering but hot all over, burning for John to do something, anything. You could feel his cock through his dress pants, hard against you, prompting you to moan into his mouth.

"Fuck’s sake, Y/N," John grunted into your ear, his hands grabbing at your arse. "You're fuckin’ killing me here. I need you, yeah?"

"Tell me how badly." You responded coyly, linking your arms around his neck, ignoring the late night drizzle.

"I'd rather show you. M’gonna take care of you tonight, make up for the month I've been gone."

"Who's saying I've not been taking care of myself?'

He bit his lip in frustration, trying to stop his mind running wild with the image of you in bed, fingers between your thighs, breasts moving as you arched your back, hips lifting off the mattress, moaning as you called his name -- his jaw clenched. "I know what you're doing. You coming up before you catch a chill?"

You shifted your weight away from him, as if considering your options. He knew your answer; you both knew in a few minutes you'd be upstairs practically tearing his shirt off, needing his skin against yours, begging for him. John pulled away from you, dragging you up the winding path to the front door of the manor, opening the door for you, arm wrapping around your waist. His lips met yours, then your collarbones and neck, prompting a breathy giggle and whine as you wound yourself back around him, craving the contact. The manor was plunged in darkness, staff somewhere in the gloom. Your arrival had definitely been noted, but as with everyone who worked for the Shelbys, they just left you to it. It was easier to not get involved, to keep their heads down and not mention the midnight trysts the brothers got up to.

John knew his path, he'd stayed here before. Even in the dark you could tell the house was decorated to spare no expense, the gaudy paintings and sculptures casting strange shadows. He led you up the grand flight of stairs, then another.

"Worse than Thomas' estate, this place." You murmured quietly, unsure of other guests within earshot.

"I could never live like this. I'd never see my brood again. Getting them ready for bed would be one hell of a nightmare." He whispered back, halting your stride by pulling your hips to his, unable to wait any longer.

"John, what if we get caught?" You asked, pressing your hand against his chest with your palm flat.

"Never bothered you before. Thought you liked the fact that anyone could just walk in and see what a pretty little mess you’ve made for me."

You couldn’t help yourself from pressing an affectionate kiss to his mouth, letting him lay you down and pin you to the stairs, the luxuriously thick carpets scraping into your flesh. He cursed under his breath at the sight of you underneath him, pushing your dress up your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his neck, pressing a kiss to your flimsy underwear, glancing up to drink you in. The most beautiful woman in his city, begging for him, figure swamped by his coat, rain soaked and shivering, his mouth between her thighs. He ran his tongue slowly across your clothed core, your pleading moans music to his ears, loving how your thighs tightened around his neck. His tongue traced circles over your clit and labia, the friction generated by the lace of your panties pushing you further, your hands knotting into his hair, spine arching against his mouth.

"No one been looking after you while I was gone. eh?" He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh, tugging your panties to the side. "What about your dancing pal?"

"Fuck’s sake, I barely know him, John." You snapped back, teetering on the edge between lust and frustration from his relentless teasing.

"Keep it that way. You don't need ‘im, lass, not while I'm about." He replies before lapping at your slit, interpreting your moans as approval as your head slumped back and you released a low groan. "Y/N, watch me, yeah?"

You pull yourself weakly upwards, propping yourself up in your elbows to be able to look down the staircase at John between your legs in the dark. The view was thrilling, moonlight shining in through the rain on the window, illuminating his face, hair messy and tongue flickering across your clit while he stared up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. You couldn't help but pant, knowing you'd be returning to this moment alone at night, when it was your fingers instead of John's tongue pushing you towards the edge.

"So fuckin' wet and ready for me, aren’t you?" He crooned, sliding his fingers into you, sucking at your clit between flicks of his tongue.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, whimpers leaving your mouth instead, your hips lifting beneath his palms, chest heaving.

"Go on, use your words, clever lass."

"John, fuck.. don't stop," You manage to string together, thoughts too muddled by alcohol and arousal to play hard to get any longer.

"I won't ‘til you cum in my mouth. Need to taste you again, beautiful."

Your head jerked back suddenly as John curled his fingers inside you, pushing up against the spot that made you lose your mind, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, all he could hear except from his blood rushing in his head. Your desperate cries for relief caused his cock to strain against his dress pants, fighting the urge to sort himself out, needing to finish you off. John needed to prove that he could fuck you better than anyone else. He knew he was pushing you to the edge, but he wasn't going to deny you your orgasm. He wanted to make a point with this. His fingers worked faster, his mouth hungry for you, lips moving against your core at a harsh pace.

You groaned loudly, hips bucking involuntarily just to be forced back against the carpet of the staircase. Your breaths grew heavier, warning him how close you were to your peak. John refused to let up, pushing you closer every second, lips latched to your core firmly, lapping up the wetness he'd produced.

"I want to watch you finish." He commanded, you completely at his will now that you'd lost control, lifting your head upwards with the little strength you had left to be able to stare down at his dilated blue eyes. "Good girl. You gonna show me how good I make you feel? You gonna cum for me, doll?"

You couldn't respond, unable to keep your eyes from rolling backwards as you felt yourself suddenly release, John’s name escaping from between your lips, legs shuddering around his neck. He let you ride it out on his tongue, tasting you desperately, watching your expression slowly relax.

Finally, he pulled away from your cunt, unwrapping your legs from his neck. He grabbed your wrist, not letting you retrieve your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. He returned his attention to tracing your slit with the index finger and thumb of his other hand, as he pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"I love how you taste," He murmured against your lips, causing you to flush slightly. John noticed, pressing kisses to your jawbone. "Don't get shy on me now. I've barely started with you. Not even got you to the suite and you've already cum."

He looked so proud of himself, it suddenly clicked for you. He was trying to prove himself to you, for some unknown reason. You know he was protective and quite obviously jealous tonight, but you couldn't believe that John Shelby felt the need to prove that he knew what he was doing, as though you weren't aware. You weren't trekking to his office for mediocre sex. Tonight he let you finish first, no teasing, no denial, no fucking about. Just putting his ability fully on show, so when your mind went drifting it'd go back to him, not some young lad who barely knew what he was doing. His cocky attitude and smug acceptance of his sexual prowess would've been off-putting if it was anyone else, but John, but with his bright smile and constant humour, pulled it off. It was enticing, making your core pool with wetness when he crossed your mind.

"A month is far too long, Mr. Shelby."

"I know, you're practically drooling over me." He teased. He seems a lot more himself than before. He’d been too caught up in his head, too focused on getting you off to enjoy the flirting and teasing. John loved how light-hearted he could be with you. Despite the mess you were both in, it was making you laugh or roll your eyes that soothed his mind. Honestly, if it was just sex he'd have cut you off instantly; he wouldn't have even gone there out of loyalty to Ada. Admittedly, it was your company and presence that had him absolutely on his knees for you, the way he felt understood, less alone in his brother's bullshit, less trapped by his criminal career because you understood. You always had a cutting line, a bright smile just for him, an eye roll at his brothers' daft plans, a choice curse word for Thomas. He didn't even want to consider what would happen after the night ended. He stood, pressing another kiss to your lips as he helped you to your feet, fixing his coat which hung off your shoulders.

"You ready for rounds two through to six?"

"John, you know you won't get through three with me."

"You’re right, you're just too pretty when you’re riding my cock." He teased, the vulgar material of his jibe earning him a joking shove before you curl into his side, letting him escort you up the stairs to the nearest bedroom. He quickly shut the door behind you, scooping you up in his arms, causing you to let out a laugh as he practically tossed you onto the king sized bed, eyes shining with adoration as he looked down at you grinning back up at him.

“You’re something else, John Shelby.”

#john shelby smut #john shelby fluff #john shelby fanfic #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic

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scorpio-marionette · 2 years

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Thank you for the tag @sturkillerbase

fave colour : Blue green to cyan, that general part of the color wheel. Though I do enjoy a good purple now and then

currently reading : *Checks GoodReads app* Fazbear Frights series, The Rise of Kyoshi (AtLA), As Old as Time (Beauty and the Beast Twisted Tale), and The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (Hunger Games); also currently reading @misspearly1 latest Frankie fic

last song: Disconnected by 5 Seconds of Summer

last movie: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent; literally just got back from the theater maybe an hour ago lol

last series: I just started Narcos on Netflix. Before that it's probaby What If...

sweet, spicy or savoury: Savoury and then sweet. Spicy is very rare for me

coffee or tea: Coffee 60% of the time. Tea 20%. Hot chocolate 20%

three ships: Reylo; do not talk to me about how it's toxic. I know. In my head it's better. Harmony, the only HP ship I ever believed in. Valerian and Laureline (I could not find a ship name for them, but I love them)

first ever ship: Hermione and Harry (Harmony)

currently supposed to be working on: 3 different fics; five different pieces if you break it down

comfort food: Mozzarella sticks and garlic bread, and McDonald's fries.

fave time of year: Autumn because it's not too hot and I can layer my clothes how I like

fave fan fiction: @oonajaeadira 's Sweets series, @anaaaispunk 's 20 Years Later series, @absurdthirst 's Hotel Dorne and A Room with a View series, @supernaturalgirl20 's Something Worth Fighting For! series, @misspearly1 's Millers Retreat series, @sturkillerbase It's All Coming Back to Me in Waves series, @writeforfandoms 's Tangled Up, and @writer-darling 's In the Dark, You Tell Me of the Flowers That Only Bloom in the Violet Hours...

These are just the ones I could think of off the top of my head, but I LOVE everything I read on here, so if I read your fics or if I'm currently reading one of your series and you see this know that I was thinking of you, it's just that this list would be a mile long if I mentioned every single one. So to make up for not mentioning everyone's fic that I love, I'm just going to tag everyone I didn't list because I love you guys!!!

NP Tags: @toomanystoriessolittletime @whataperfectwasteoftime @littlemisspascal @storiesofthefandomlovers @221bshrlocked @joelmillersgirlfriend @wardenparker @honestly-shite @themand0lorian @the-scandalorian @fictionalnerdery @missredherring @radiowallet @iblogtopassthetime @juletheghoul @queridopascal @wordsnwhiskey @jessie-writes-things @hardlyinteresting @wheresarizona @clydesducktape @beskarberry

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parkersjiggle · 4 years

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Hi! I'm the one who requested the 'didn't know they were dating fic'. Thank you so much! It was perfect, I really enjoyed it. Can I make another request? Tony thinking Peter has feelings for one of the other Avengers and being jealous. But of course it's him Peter wanted all along.

Hey! I loved that prompt thank you for requesting it! I’m so sorry I haven’t gotten to you before now but I’ve been swamped with uni and I felt super unmotivated to write, but I’m back now! Anyways I hope you enjoy!!

Tags: jealous!Tony, mutual pining, misunderstandings, required unrequited love

—————

Frankly, this was not Tony’s morning. He hadn’t slept in over 40 hours and to make matters worse he had just run out of coffee and forgot to tell Friday to order more. But none of that could explain the bile rising up in his throat or the jealousy coursing through his veins.

The scene unfolding in front of him did though. Stupid Steve’s giggling again, unmanly as it is. His muscles shake and tears stream from his closed eyes. He has a hand plastered on Peter’s shoulder. Tony has to hold his breath, pursing his lips as he watches them from the corner of the room.

He knows what has happened. Peter probably told some joke that honestly wasn’t worth doubling over and bursting into harsh cackles of laughter, but Steve just had to go the extra mile to get Peter’s attention. Tony had been observing things escalate for a while, and the more he noticed, the more it upset him. It started out as most things did, he guessed. Flirty comments, lingering touches, more eye contact than strictly necessary.

It doesn’t matter anyway. Tony won’t have to be here for much longer. Next week he’s off to Hawaii by himself. The brochure looked really good and he couldn’t wait to relax, gather his thoughts and get over this idiotic crush.

It hurt to look, but he couldn’t not look either. He notices Steve telling Peter some lame story about a mission gone wrong. The kid’s face actually lights up brighter than a toothpaste commercial. He has that soft, adoring look on his face that makes Tony want to hurl.

Tony decides to torture himself some more and actually joins them in the living room. Steve whooshes past him as if it’s his house instead of Tony’s and perches himself on Tony’s favorite couch, signaling for Peter to come over. When he does, Steve wraps himself around him closer than food wrap, just as transparent. They’re whispering as if they’re sharing secrets. This time Peter’s the one giggling like he’s three and a half years old.

Tony can’t say anything about it. It would put their friendship at risk, and that’s something he won’t do. Friends like Peter don’t come along too often. Knowing that still doesn’t stop the want to raise his voice with jealous spite and demand Peter to explain why Steve makes him smile like that when it should be Tony.

But, it’s not the kid’s fault. Tony had no claim on Peter. They weren’t anything beyond close friends and Peter could flirt with whomever he wanted. Maybe he had a chance years ago when the hero-worship and excessive admiration still lingered, but he fucked that up too. Peter knew the real him now, flaws and all. Tony’s well aware he pulls with one hand just to push away with the other. He knows he’s doing it right now too, but he still doesn’t stop. He feels like he’s cursed. When he loves it’s too strong, like some God turned his emotion dials up way too far. No one really understands that Tony can only give mixed messages in order to disguise his love, protect his feelings.

He didn’t say anything but his eyes were like daggers stabbing Steve over and over again. He always had to have what Tony wanted too, huh? Tony felt the frustration bubbling up in his chest.

His knuckles turned white from clenching his fist too hard. His teeth gritted from the effort to remain silent, hunched form exuding an animosity that was like acid- burning, slicing, potent. “Something wrong, Stark?” When Steve spoke, Tony mentally snapped, face red with suppressed rage. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you, Rogers? You really love to rub it in, don’t you?” He made the mistake of letting all the frustration build until it inevitably snapped. He knew that he shouldn’t have let it escalate to that point, but logic wasn’t on his side right now. He couldn’t think this through.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Steve raised his brow questionably. Tony felt the hammering of his heart, its very great attempt to escape his chest. Nothing but hurt and fury ran through his mind right now, “Are you acting stupid or do you actually have a brain the size of a pickled walnut?”

He heard the youngest of them three gasp, almost scandalously. “TONY! You can’t say stuff like that! What’s gotten into you!?” He had the nerve to sound disappointed and angry at the same time. Those feelings quickly ebbed away, however, when he really looked at Tony, and more specifically at his eyes. Which seemed to hold a great deal of pain and had dark bags under them. Peter wondered when he was last able to get some sleep and not just a 45 minute powernap between his lab projects. He paused and sighed. “Are you okay?” The concern and sincerity was clear in his voice. It made Tony want to confess everything and run away at the same time. He let out a shaky breath. “No... I’m not.” He cast his gaze onto the ground and his eyes darkened. He glanced back up at Peter. “Why?” His voice sounded more pained than anything. Steve saw this as the perfect time to excuse himself, fully well aware of how much Tony hated being vulnerable in front of others.

“Why what?” Peter asked softly, following Tony’s gaze that was plastered on Steve walking out. “You mean Steve? Why do you have a problem with him?” Tony chuckled darkly and shook his head, choosing to answer with a question of his own. “How long have you two been dating?” Peter eyed him weirdly, confusion evident on his face. “Dating? We’re not... what do you mean?” Now it was Tony’s turn to look puzzled. “What’s all that giggling and whispering about then? I can’t walk in a room without seeing you two joined at the hip!”

Peter laughed, almost hysterically. “Omg this is golden. This is so good. We’re literally plotting, trying to come up with a plan, to get him and Bucky together! There’s absolutely nothing going on between him and I.” Tony couldn’t help the relaxing of his muscles and the breath of relief that escaped his mouth at those words. “Why do you care? Wait... were you jealous?” Peter leaned in closer, smirking. “So what if I was?” Tony would not back down so easily. “Well I’d say you’re a bit of hypocrite to be honest. One moment I’m important, next minute I’m background at best. What’s making my head spin are the transitions. Stop giving me mixed signals, Tony! Don’t be a coward, tell me how you feel.”

Tony didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the distance between them, kissing Peter short and sweet. “I love you,” he tells him, “I love you. Come to Hawaii with me? How’s that for a signal?”

—————

Send me more prompts loves!! 😊

#tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #starkerfic #starker

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laxiq-archive · 6 years

Photo

➳ ♡ . * ˚┊ h a p p y ⏤ 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓃 ⏤ d a y . * ₊ ˚ ✧

☾ vιιι.ιх.хvιιι // ʟᴀᴜʀᴇɴ’s 𝟷𝟿ᵀᴴ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ☽

ପ . * ˚ ₊ for those who don’t know lauren...,

she is: ♡ very witty ♡ kind hearted ♡ beautiful ♡ amazing 12/10 recommend you follow her

let me tell you a bit more about her.

firstly, she is horrendous with words. every now and then i could use a compliment, or when i’m sad i would like some soft words to make me feel better . .

so i tell her . . her response 90% of the time? “yeet.”

♥︎ “u always look above decent.” ♥︎ “⏤i will give you half of my liver.” ♥︎ “basic human how r u.”

you get the point.

secondly, she has a terrible sleeping schedule and it makes me feel conflicted. let me tell you why. we live in different time zones so it’s easy for me to stay up late to talk to her. but i try to keep in mind that midnight for me means two in the morning for her. so i suggest she sleep, she refuses, and we keep talking. she’ll sleep late then wake up early for work.

she makes me feel bad because as much as i want to talk to her when she gets off work, i know she’s tired so she should go to sleep early. but she doesn’t want to go to sleep early and the selfish part of me is glad because we get to talk more, but the rest of me feels very guilty because it’s not good for her.

thirdly, lauren has an awful diet. i feel like she eats ramen every single night. like??? it’s not healthy!! not healthy at all!! but she does it!! like, you better calm down there naruto. and i know y'all saw that post of me telling her to drink water. it’s because she had only consumed red bulls!! also not healthy!!

i could go on to tell you about other stuff she does.

- reminds me every chance she gets that i’m short - leaves our relationship on read - the numerous times she’s fallen asleep on me - made me sad once . . or twice . . thrice - etc. etc.

what i am trying to tell you is lauren is not perfect. she has her flaws, she makes me sad at times, and i always wonder what she thinks of me because she’s never serious . . it’s all these negative things that reminds me just how incredibly human she is.

i adore everything about her, even these traits of hers. she is very bad with words but an incredible communicator. she’s willing to sacrifice sleep so we can talk about stupid stuff. she’s so real with me, not afraid to hide parts of her life with me, even the ugly stuff, and i really admire her these things about her.

she’s someone i talk to so often that it’s become easy to tell her stuff that i wouldn’t tell other people. so often that it’s easy to tell / show her how much I care about her. so often that my day feels incomplete strange if i don’t talk to her. she’s apart of my daily routine and i'm so blessed to have her apart of my life.

today is her nineteenth birthday, and i just want to attempt to put my feelings into words, just for her, on this beautiful thursday. ‧₊˚ ଓ

‧₊˚✧. нαppy вιrтнdαy тo yoυ нαppy вιrтнdαy тo yoυ нαppy вιrтнdαy deαr lαυreɴ нαppy вιrтнdαy тo yoυ ‧₊˚✧

➳ ♡ . * ○┊ 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓃,

this is kind of hard; you already know my feelings. i was thinking about what to say to you now . . and i want you to know the depth of these feelings. but how do i express them to you? i’m not entirely sure to be honest. so i’ll just say whatever’s in my heart and hope my sincerity can reach you, despite the distance between us.

a few months ago we met on this horrid site. i remember wanting to talk to you because i would read your tags and laugh, so i did my best to initiate a lame excuse of a conversation with you. ever since then you’ve become someone i cherish dearly. i want you to feel bliss every day of your life but that’s too unrealistic. so i hope that every day you heal, even if it’s just a little, and steadily grow into the person you want to be.

truthfully, from the beginning, i felt very comfortable with you. maybe it was because of your carefree attitude, or maybe it was the kindness you showed me? perhaps it was our keysmash convos. whatever it was, it felt really natural to talk to you.

since that day, my comfort has been growing with each joke, with each intimate moment, with each confinement. that comfort has recently evolved into something deeper. with you, i have reached a level of vulnerability. i feel like i could show you all of my weaknesses and i trust that you wouldn’t use that information to hurt me.

ah, the depth of my love for you. where do i begin? you’re constantly on my mind; i see things that remind me of you, i hear songs and i wonder if you would like them. i worry for you when an hour passes and i haven’t received a response from you. you’re literally the only person i have no issues with when it comes to messaging back and forth all day every day.

you already know that i sometimes act motherly to you because i truly want what’s best for you, right? i don’t intend to be annoying, and i know i can come across as just that sometimes when i constantly ask if you’re tired, or what time you work, or when i very lightly nag you for doing something dumb. but i do that all out of love. wow, i really do sound like a mother i am so sorry.

i am not sure how else to explain to you my love for you. it’s like . . you’re my favorite human. i’m interested in everything about you ⏤ from your thoughts to your lifestyle to just you in general. i hope that someday in the future we can meet and go to an observatory. we can talk and watch the sun set before learning about the stars, it’ll be great i promise.

i won’t ever forget those moments i spent on my vacation. when i was alone in my hotel room and i got really bad paranoia at night and freaked out. none of my friends were answering my calls when i needed them, and i felt like i was really going to die if i didn’t escape my thoughts. but while my friends didn’t return my calls, you texted me that entire time. you made sure i was okay, tried to calm me down, and made me feel better.

i don’t think i ever really thanked you back then, but that meant so much to me. the first night it happened i felt a sense of security with you, and i was able to feel the warmth of your heart in that cold hotel room. i am so thankful for you. above all you’re my friend, and i hope we can be friends for a long time. you have such a pure soul, i don’t want to lose a person as good natured as you.

i haven’t told you this as much as i should but i really do appreciate you. whenever i’m upset, which is like every other night, you don’t dismiss my feelings, you don’t get annoyed, nor do you comment on how often i get the blues. instead, you worry about me and urge me to talk about what’s bothering me, while still respecting my boundaries. you’re patient with me and let me vent to you and while you’re bad with putting your thoughts into words, you still do your best to comfort me. you’ve shown me so much compassion and love, more than i deserve, really.

you also encourage me to become comfortable with the parts of myself that i’m shy with, which is so amazing. you make me feel good about the sides of me that i am insecure about and if that isn’t supporting someone else’s growth i don’t know what is.

you have such a kind and understanding heart, i value you very much.

i look forward to the future days where i can learn more about you ⏤ things you don’t like, like corn dogs for example; things that upset you, like ladies yelling at you, another example; and just see more of you. i want to have more talks with you about things that don’t matter and things that mean the world to you, and i want to enjoy your presence even though we’re miles away from each other.

what i’m trying to say, in a nutshell, is in this short amount of time you’ve become my best friend. i love you very much lauren and i wish nothing but the best for you this year. happy birthday my goblin. 💘

⏤ ��𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁 ପ♡⃛ଓ

#➳ ❤︎ . * ˚┊lauren: bday wishes ‧₊˚✧#for the past week i've been staying up till like 3 to write this . . .#when im really tired it's easy for my heart to open up so i waited until the night to type this #so i'm sorry if this whole thing is cheesy but i tried to be as sincere as possible #i made so many drafts because each night i wanted to say more but in the end i decided to keep our intimate moments between us #i can't really do much for you on your birthday but i hope through this post you can feel my affection #anyways happy birthday lauren! ♡ i love you!#also peep the naruto references: ☾ ○#gothyonq #long post.#reytxt.

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lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean · 3 years

Text

La Pomme ~ Chapter 10

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 4,500

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About 4 hours later, George stirred awake as she began getting hit in the face with the bright morning sun. She was surprised to find Sam driving, with Dean passed out next to him. Castiel looked like he hadn't moved an inch since she'd closed her eyes and she smiled at his resolve. When she finally shifted, she noticed a large unfamiliar, tan jacket laying across her lap.

Reaching up to lightly touch Sam on the shoulder, gently alerting him to her presence, she whispered, "What time is it?"

"Hey, morning. A little after six. You doing OK? Need to pee?" He teased gently and she smiled.

"I'm alright at the moment, though I wouldn't turn down a chance to stretch my legs." She sat up in her seat, stretching as much as she could without invading Cas' space. Sam watched in the rear view as she crossed her arms above her head and arched her back for a stretch. He caught himself admiring the way the fabric of her shirt lifted up just enough for him to catch a fleeting glimpse of the skin on her waist. There was more bright ink peeking out from the top of her khakis, he noticed. She released the stretch much too soon in his opinion and then leaned over to pick up the jacket that had fallen off of her lap. She held it up questioningly to Sam and he adjusted himself in his seat, clearing his throat.

"Oh, that's, uh-mine." He stuttered, reaching back and taking it from her outstretched hands. "The backseat can get cold."

"Mm," She smiled and nodded appreciatively. "Thanks. How long have you been driving?"

"Just about 3 hours. I could use a stretch myself; I think there's a rest stop ahead a few miles." She nodded lazily, still brushing off the sleep, and looked over at Cas.

"You been keeping a weather eye out, Castiel?" She asked teasingly.

"Yes ma'am. Can never be too careful with these two." As nervous as she made him, he actually liked George. She eagerly included him in conversation and car games, which he wasn't used to. He also enjoyed her attempts to banter with him and he was getting better at deciphering them and even participating.

"Good man." She patted his shoulder appreciatively.

Cas nodded in solidarity, then he raised an eyebrow at her inquisitively. George smiled and raised both her eyebrows in response, waiting for him to speak. Based on his expression, she assumed he wanted to ask her a question. When he didn't speak, she raised her eyebrows more to encourage him. He darted his eyes to Sam; his face dropped quickly.

George followed his gaze to Sam and was startled at the daggers he was staring at Cas. She asked, "What? What's with the eyes?"

When Sam noticed her looking, he dropped his angry face and shrugged, "Nothin'? No eyes." Cas shrugged awkwardly in agreement. George looked between the two of them skeptically. She knew what she saw.

Narrowing her eyes, she demanded, "What?"

"Nothing," Cas stated with an incredibly unconvincing tone. George's head whipped to look at Sam as he rolled his eyes at Cas before he could stop himself.

She was annoyed now, "Seriously, guys-what?! Do I have a zit? Was I drooling in my sleep or-?" Her face fell suddenly and she winced, "Did I say something embarrassing?" She'd had partners mention her sleep talking once or twice and she'd been having a strangely vivid dream about Sam just before the sunshine woke her up. Considering the content, she prayed she hadn't said anything.

At her question, Cas and Sam exchanged a confused look. They both shook their heads as Sam answered, "Nope, no drooling, no talking. And no zits," he ended with a smirk.

George looked relieved for a moment and then frowned, "Then what? Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked Cas and then looked at Sam, "And why are you trying to keep him quiet?"

Sam pulled an innocent face, "I'm not-"

"Save it, dude! I saw you," George laughed at his innocent-little-brother face. "What's goin' on?"

Cas folded, "We were just wonder-"

Sam cut him off with a "No!" so loud that Dean startled awake with a snort.

"The hell?" Dean grumbled. Sam sighed defeatedly. He knew it was too late to stop the inevitable now, but he'd really tried. This was going to be painful.

"I believe your thug brother is threatening Castiel into keeping secrets," George stated annoyedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Dean responded with a confused, "Huh?"

Castiel explained, defensively, "I was just trying to ask George if she's a 'Deangirl' or a 'Samgirl'."

George's eyes went wide. Large, angry red splotches began to appear on her pale cheeks and a sweat broke out on her brow. Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly, clenching his jaw and looking mortified.

Dean let out a loud, "Ha!" Chuckling, he sat up right and murmured, "Definitely glad I got woken up for this."

"What?" Cas huffed, seeing everyone's reactions. "I know you said we weren't supposed to say anything when she woke up, but you two were having a lively discussion about it earlier and I j-"

George choked on nothing and sputtered, "The two of you were having a lively discussion about wheth-" Dean and Sam both pulled the same innocent expression, though Dean couldn't hide his glee.

Sam cut her off with a stutter, "We weren't-It-it wasn't exactly-there was no-"

Dean shook his head, cutting him off with a matter-of-fact, "We were just trying to explain to Cas more about the reality you came from-with the show and everything? Naturally the subject of the fans came up..."

"They weren't sure which 'girl' designation you fell into. I didn't see what the issue was with just politely asking?"

"It's not a polite question, Cas!" George snapped in humiliation.

"Oh…" He frowned, "why not?"

"Because!" She explained fully.

"There are just some things you don't ask a woman, Cas," Dean offered with a bemused chuckle.

Cas' brows furrowed, looking curiously at George, "Does this question somehow relate to your age or menstrual cycle?"

"Sweet Jesus," George laughed to keep from crying in embarrassment, hiding her face behind her hands. She knew this was how Cas was but she wasn't prepared to experience his naivete in real life. The Kegel comments she could handle but this was beyond.

Sam desperately tried to re-rail the train wreck that was happening, "Cas, what Dean meant to say was, there are some things you shouldn't ask people. Humans, in general. Private things."

"Mortifying things," George groaned from behind her hands.

Cas was still confused, "And asking someone whether they're a 'Samgirl' or a 'Deangirl' is private?"

George dropped her hands and nodded emphatically, "In the context of our current situation, yes!"

"Why?"

"Because!" When he looked at her with a patient expression on his face she realized he'd need more than that. "Because… because…" she looked to Sam and Dean for help but neither one offered any. "Ugh, because it's the same as asking... 'Hey, Cas, if you had to, who would you rather sleep with, Dean or Sam?'"

"Don't answer that," Dean said slowly, with a frown.

"Not so amusing now, is it?" George smirked triumphantly at him.

"Well, I don't sleep but if you're saying I have to, then I guess I'd rather not-sleep with Sam," Castiel determined, after some thought.

"What?!" Came a half offended, half surprised echo from the front.

George's eyes lit up with far too much glee, "Oooooh?"

"Yes, definitely Sam," He nodded, more sure than before. Seeing their expressions - George's filled with joy, Dean's slightly hurt, and Sam pleasantly shocked - he explained, "Dean is an angry sleeper. The risk of getting shot is high. Sleeping-or not-with Sam would be far safer."

"Oooh, darn!" George laughed disappointedly at Cas' unexpected-yet-entirely-expected literal interpretation. The brothers looked relieved and also mildly amused.

Cas was lost, "I fail to understand what this has to do with-"

Dean 'ughed' deeply before explaining, "It's about sex, Cas." Sam cringed, eyes focused on the road. George groaned painfully and turtled her head inside her shirt as much as possible. "You essentially asked George which one of us she'd rather have sex with. Which-while incredibly entertaining for me-is a personal question," he finished uncharacteristically kindly.

George peeked her eyes out, surprised to see the sincere look on Dean's face, "Hmm, that actually wasn't as bad as I thou-"

Sam cut her off with a quiet, knowing, "Wait for it."

Just as George made eye contact with Dean he added, "I mean, it's none of our business how much sex George wants to have with Sam."

"And there it is," Sam finished knowingly with a frustrated eye roll.

"Ass!" George shrieked and punched Dean in the shoulder before retreating back into her shirt. Dean laughed heartily, flinching a bit.

"So, anyway," Sam began helpfully, trying to change the subject. "I'm kinda curious how much the show-the one of us, in-in your reality-how much it matches up with our real lives?"

George slowly came out of her shirt, blinking quickly, and thought for a moment, "Uhm, well I don't really know. I mean I've watched the show but like I said before, I wasn't the biggest fan in terms of… for lack of a better term, 'the lore' of it. I know bits and pieces here and there, but I'm by no means an expert."

"But you don't have the books?" Dean followed up curiously.

"The books are in the show, but I'm pretty sure they aren't published in… my 'real life'-who knows what the hell that is anymore. If I understand correctly, each book was supposed to equate to one episode in a season of the TV show. The published books stopped when Dean went to hell right?" Dean grumbled a yes and George continued, "OK, for the TV show that's the end of season three."

"How many seasons are there?" Dean asked curiously.

"Uhh, I think fifteen, so far?" Had it been canceled? She couldn't remember.

"Fifteen?! People have been watching our lives for-" Dean cut off and took a breath. "I can't decide if I'm annoyed that people are watching our boring ass lives for that long or that our lives are dramatic enough to be a television show for that long."

"What season did we come to your reality?" Sam wondered. Dean 'ughed' loudly at the memory.

With an amused shake of her head, she answered, "Season six, I think? Such a great episode! That whole season was pretty solid, actually. A great combination of funny yet emotionally gripping. I think that was also Cas and Meg kissing-" She looked at Cas earnestly and interjected into her own rambling, "That was awesome-and the posse magnet episode-which, btw, of course, people made shirts of that." For once in this conversation Dean looked happy, giving Sam a pleased expression, which garnered an eyeroll.

"If I'm not mistaken that was also the season with soul-" she was about to say "soulless Sam" but her heart twinged and she realized she couldn't be so flippant with the fandom created monikers anymore. These were no longer just characters, they were, inexplicably, very real people whom she now knew.

And cared about, she heard a tiny voice add.

"Er, it covered Sam's time after hell…without a soul," She grimaced a bit in sympathy, not knowing how best to fill in the blanks.

Sam's face went from startled to shame on a small delay. Further confirmation that she knew of the million awful things he'd done, he grimaced. If she knew everything it could not bode well. The thought filled him with a surprising amount of disappointment.

She'd seen the look on his face and quickly added with a hopeful smile, "And it also covered the time after you got your soul back! Which included the French Mistake!"

"The French Mistake?" Castiel asked.

"The one when they came to my reality!" George grinned and Dean made a yuck face. "You guys had so much great chemistry that episode. Making fun of their names and the alpacas, it was golden. Can't say enough about how hilarious that episode was. I was surprised by the dialogue about their tension on set because that's actually always been rumored to be true. It seems weird that they'd talk about it if it was true, though, so who knows what to think?" The men in the car certainly didn't but they nodded politely and let her ramble. "So, either it's all just stupid rumors and they find it funny or-HOLD ON!" Suddenly her face fell and she looked at Sam in shock upon realizing, "Did you sleep with Jared's wife?"

Three pairs of eyes were boring into Sam and he shrunk down in his seat, looking stunned and stuttering, "Er-I-Uh-You-you know abou-"

"You had sex with fake Ruby?!" Dean was beyond indignant.

"Who's Jared?" Cas asked.

Sam looked mortified and George instantly felt bad about starting them down this path. She hadn't meant to embarrass him, she just failed to think before she spoke sometimes. Especially after realizations like that. Obviously, this whole "Supernatural is real" had more ramifications than she'd realized.

Making a mental note to maybe ask him about it later, she quickly changed the subject, "They were filming the French Mistake when we lost Misha." Frowning sadly, she patted Castiel's knee, "I want you to know I was devastated about that. Misha was my favorite Castiel."

Castiel looked confused, glancing at Sam and Dean, "Thank you?" She smiled and squeezed his knee gently before letting go. "So, in your reality, I'm dead?" Castiel asked with a contemplative look.

"Well…" She paused, trying to think of how to explain it so he would understand, "you're not-er Castiel is not. But the actor who played the vessel you're currently inhabiting is."

"Jimmy Novak?" Castiel confirmed and George nodded a bit.

"That sounds right," She agreed; she'd only seen the episode once so she couldn't be sure. "When Misha died tragically in that horrible stabbing 'accident,' the writers were just going to write Castiel out of the show but the fandom fired upon them with the white hot rage of a Deastiel shipper left unsatisfied," Her eyes were wide with emphasis; Sam snickered, Dean huffed and Castiel was oblivious, "so they quickly brought you back in a new vessel a couple episodes later." {author's note: yes I prefer 'Deastiel', it makes the most sense for the mashup of both their names IMO and it's my story}

The three men considered the scenario for a minute. Sam seemed unsure, Dean wondered what the new actor looked like, and Cas paused, then nodded, "Well, I suppose that makes sense. If I could find another vessel willing and able to hold me I'd want to still be around to help." George smiled at his loyalty. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed MishaCas. The replacement actor was fine but to her, the chemistry was never the same.

George said absentmindedly, "As far as I can tell-though my knowledge is obviously limited-most of the rest of the story line from the show has been the same here? Castiel's the only major difference I recognize."

After a long, pregnant pause, Dean asked tentatively, "So… exactly, how much do you know about us?"

George squinted a little at him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well… like, do they show everything?"

George smirked and shook her head, "It's basic cable not HBO. Maybe a handful of shirtless scenes but nothing Game of Thrones graphic. The focus of the show is the supernatural-is you guys, hunting and saving and all that, so not really a lot of romantic, naked stuff. The focus of the fandom, on the other hand? Well that's a very different story," She cracked with a chuckle.

The next nine or so hours of their car ride passed fairly uneventfully as George rambled about the show, asking them questions and comparing notes about their lives. Dean took over driving after a pitstop and as the hours turned into nearly day(s), everyone-including Cas-started getting a little punchy, not to mention ripe. Nice, fun friendly games of I-Spy or the license plate game had dissolved into butt-hurt bickering and the silence that returned to the car for the last two hours had been welcomed by everyone.

Finally, though, George caught a road sign for Reno, Nevada - 30 miles and decided she couldn't take it anymore. She was sore, tired, tired of wearing a bra, in desperate need of a shower-or three, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep silently farting and blaming it on Cas. Luckily for her, he remained his usual indifferent self but Dean certainly seemed to be getting suspicious of the smells emanating from the back. She also made the startling realization that she had no change of clothes with her during one of her earlier daydreams about a long hot bath. Hopefully she'd made enough headway with Dean for him not to be too pissed when she mentioned it.

"Hey, I have a fun new game we could try." George paused to allow the three grumpuses to groan in unison before continuing, "it's called let's stop in a real town-say Reno!-and get some actual food and maybe a hotel room for some actual sleep for the first time in 24 hours! Any takers?" She tried to keep her expectations low. "Dean, I bet Reno has great pie."

"You know what George?" Dean began in a mock angry voice, pausing for dramatic effect. "They have some damn good pie in Reno. Remember that one place just off the 659, Sammy? That pie was orgasmic! What was that place called…"

"Brown Cub Diner?" George offered.

"That's it! How'd you know?"

"I'm from Carson City; I grew up around here. Brown Cub Diner is famous in our area. Have you tried their pancakes? They have a special sweet cream batter and those flapjacks just melt in your mouth." She saw Dean's reaction and could almost taste the hot, bubbly bath water and nice soft warm (flat!) mattress. She pressed on, "I think we're only about 30 minutes from there?"

"Ya know Dean, we have been driving for about 24 hours. Obviously, we need to get to Jack but we're of no use to him if we're sore and exhausted. Wouldn't be such a bad idea to take a break, get some good food, take a shower," he gave an exaggerated, unpleasant smell look in George's direction and she swatted his shoulder, "and recharge before hitting the road for the last stretch?" George could have kissed Sam for the assist, even if he did use it as an excuse to call her funky. Rude.

"Fine," Dean huffed and everyone, well Sam and George, Cas was pretty indifferent, celebrated with high fives. "But we're getting pie-and pancakes-first!"

"Uh, if I could just interject one quick additional favor?" George asked, causing Dean to let out a low exasperated, yet questioning growl. "I literally only have the clothes on my back and seeing as how there also happens to be a Target just off the freeway on Sparks Blvd coming up in 2 miles," she pointed to the excellently timed street sign they were passing, "then perhaps we could make a super quick stop so that I could get a change of clothes or two?" It all came out in one breath and she stopped to catch her next. "Pretty please?"

Dean remained silent as he drove the next two miles and George was starting to feel deflated. But when he pulled off the Sparks Blvd exit, she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind for a thank you hug, causing him to swerve slightly and curse before gently sloughing her off. They arrived at Target and Dean parked toward the back, keeping his baby away from any other riff raff cars. Turning off the engine, he then produced a wallet from his back pocket. He dug out a small stack of $20s and handed it to her.

"We typically like to pay for things, Sticky Fingers." Dean began.

"With all your stolen money?" She asked cheekily, because she just couldn't help herself either. He was the quintessential big brother and it set her little sister mode on 11 every time.

He paused and gave her a squinted stare before continuing, "In and out in 30 minutes; those flapjacks are calling my name!"

She thanked Dean for the cash, promising to pay him back before realizing how impossible that was, and the three boys decided to wait in the car while she ran in.

Heading first for the toiletries for some personal essentials, she then doubled back toward the front where she picked up a generic pair of tennies-comfort and function seemed more important than style in her current situation-and a packet of white socks. Next she grabbed up two half-decent bras and a pack of underwear before crossing over to the racks of outerwear. She'd tried to work out in the car how many items she'd need and to keep things conservative she figured a two-three pair of pants and the same amount of plain shirts would suffice. She'd finally settled on two pairs of dark denim boot cut jeans and one pair of black cotton joggers, along with two fitted, v-neck, long sleeved t-shirts, one in navy, one in maroon, a black sleeveless undershirt, and couldn't help grabbing an oversized pink and black madres plaid button down. She also grabbed a black pull over hoodie with the Friends logo, since she knew that the redwoods could get pretty cold and she was stoked that Friends was still a thing in this reality. Lastly, she grabbed a pair of plain, flowy black PJ pants and a large men's pale blue v-neck tee for sleeping, and made her way toward the register.

As she waited in line with her cart, spacing out about whether or not she grabbed too much or not enough of each clothing item, she caught a glimpse of something familiar out of the corner of her eye. Three lanes away from her a short, chubby woman with mousy, short brown and graying hair, wearing a familiar pale green jacket was also checking out. From behind, the woman looked exactly like George's mother and she felt whiplashed back to her reality.

"Mom?" Her voice came out scratchy and quiet as she involuntarily called out to the woman. Part of her felt compelled to scream out, run over and grab her into a hug, listen happily as her mom comfortingly told George that everything was OK and she'd just been dreaming. But she was frozen in place by shock. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched the woman-her mother! She was sure of it!-finish her transaction and head for the front door. George looked back at her cart and the money in her hand. She debated with herself for half a second before abandoning the shopping cart and bolting after the pale green jacket that had exited the store and disappeared from her sight. She made chase, stopping at the edge of the sidewalk in front of the store and frantically searching the parking lot for the woman.

When George finally spotted her unloading her purchases into a car she didn't recognize, George's stomach dropped. She could now see her face and it was very clear that the lovely middle eastern woman was not her mother. Tears began welling up in George's eyes, her face flushed red from emotion, and she walked over to lean on the building, trying to get a hold of herself.

Her mind was racing and she was trying to catch her breath in her panicked state. She had gotten so swept up in the adventure and insanity of this dreamlike experience that she'd forgotten about her actual life for the past 24 hours. But now that she thought about her old, boring normal life-a life where she wasn't crazy; where she wasn't feeling this constant, strange, unshakable feeling of inaccessible deja vu; where she wasn't carpooling with an angel to go rescue someone from potential death; where she wasn't conversing with Sam and Dean motherfucking Winchester-she wanted to run. All knowledge of how difficult and far-from-perfect her real life had been were forgotten in the moment. She glanced over toward the back of the parking lot where she could still see the Impala parked where she'd left it, then pulled the money out of her pocket, counting through it - $300.

As fate would have it, she spotted a taxi dropping a couple off near the corner of the building and jogged over.

"Are you taking fares?" She bent over to ask the driver as the couple walked away.

"Where you going?"

"Carson City?" George almost hoped the woman would turn her down.

"That's nearly 40 miles away, it's gonna be over $100?" The driver responded, questioningly. George shot one last guilty look back at the Impala before climbing into the back.

"Let's go." She crouched down low in her seat as they exited the parking lot and tried to ignore the intense guilt-nausea building in the pit of her stomach.

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester x original character #sam winchester x original female character #spn fanfic series #spn fanfiction

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raybyanothername · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kathryn Janeway & Q Junior, Icheb/Q Junior Characters: Q Junior (Star Trek), Kathryn Janeway, Icheb (Star Trek), Seven of Nine, Naomi Wildman, Voyager Crew Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Crew as Family Summary:

Young Q absconds to earth to stay with his godmother. Janeway is absolutely suspicious, but...he is her godson, and she can't trust Q to help his son now can she?

-.-.-

Captain Janeway would love to say she was surprised by this turn of events. Really, she'd have even given up a coffee ration for an iota or two of shock if they were still in the Delta Quadrant (just the one ration though).

Reality as it was, when she opened the door to her quarters to find Q Junior sitting on her couch, eyes already wide and ready to pout, Kathryn just sighed. She plopped herself beside her godson and rubbed her fingers into the sides of her forehead. A headache formed anyway.

Some of the manners she'd instilled while Q was under her care in the Delta Quadrant must have stayed with him because the immortal young man waited until she dropped her fingers. "Alright. Go."

"He's completely overbearing! And controlling!" Q jumped up to start pacing. Kathryn smiled as she watched him gesture out - it was a very human thing to do after all. As were his street clothes - no Starfleet uniform in sight. "I mean, what's the point of my exploring the infinite universe if HE makes all the decisions! We went to the same three systems over and over again and -"

Kathryn let the boy rant for a good long while - at least five minutes - before she cleared her throat. Q turned back to her with sunken shoulders and puckered lips. Even his curly hair looked a little slumped.

"Can't I stay with you for a while Aunt Kathy?"

Her eyebrows raised, "You want to stay with me?" She glanced around at her apartment.

It was larger than her quarters on Voyager, but it was still just the two bedrooms. The kitchen didn't even warrant its it's own room, just a few cabinets that ran along the wall beside the replicator. "You are aware I'm assigned to Starfleet Headquarters right now? No adventures. No space. There's very little excitement."

Q shrugged and slunk into the couch beside her. His eyes widened a fraction, "Please, Aunt Kathy? Anything's better than another trip to the Urus system." His lower lip stuck out, "I'll be good. I promise."

"I highly doubt that," Kathryn snorted, but she patted his cheek nonetheless. Q smiled at the gesture, leaned into it even. "You can stay." She sighed as he jumped up in exclamation.

Immortal Omniscient Being or not, the Young Q was essentially the same as any other teenager. He made a dramatic show of jumping up and down and talking a mile a minute about everything there was to do on earth.

Exactly like a teenager. That also meant he needed something to do while she worked or he'd drive her nuts for sure.

"If you'd like, I'm sure the Academy would let you sit in on a few classes while you're here." Q's head lulled and Kathryn smiled at him. "Think of it like diplomatic training, might come in handy someday."

Q grumbled out an agreement. "Yes, Aunt Kathy."

She stood then and gave him a quick tour of her apartment - mostly unnecessary as she was positive he'd already snooped around, but it gave her a chance to lay some ground rules. Namely - no unnecessary use of powers and no joyriding.

The end of the tour brought the encounter's first real shock.

"Thanks Aunt Kathy!" Q gave her a swift hug and then immediately flounced onto her guest bed when she opened the door to the room. There, he promptly fell asleep. He hadn't even snapped his fingers to change into pajamas. Just…closed his eyes and went to sleep in his jeans and sweatshirt.

Even when he'd temporarily had his powers revoked, Kathryn had never seen Q sleep. Or his father for that matter. And she'd checked on her godson at all hours of the day that week. Like everyone, Q looked more peaceful in his sleep with the lines on his face all smoothed out. It struck her then that most of Q's smiles that night had been tight.

Kathryn instructed the computer to turn the lights to low. Q shifted, pulled the blanket closer. She ruffled his hair slightly before padding out of the room, "Goodnight, Q." Once she was in the living room, she placed her hands on her hips and waited.

"Kathy!" Q Senior was just as magnanimous as usual. Kathryn glared him down, per usual as well. "I see Junior's come running to you for help again."

"You were the one asking for my help last time, Q, not him." She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, "Now, why don't you explain why he's running away from you?"

Q held a hand to his chest, gasping, "Run away?? From me? Preposterous!" Janeway's eye twitched. "Alright! We might have had a slight disagreement."

Her headache returned full force.

It took Janeway two hours to get the Elder Q out of her apartment, sans son. He'd hemmed, he'd hawed, he'd snapped a literal donkey into her apartment, but he'd finally acquiesced that Junior needed a break and Janeway was the best option.

"Not like I'm his godmother or anything…" Janeway groused to herself as she started to undress. She threw her uniform jacket over the back of a chair.

These quarters had been given to her by Starfleet when Voyager returned. She still hadn't managed to really move in - the walls were blank, the closet empty but for those items she'd needed after her assignment to Headquarters.

Staring at the lack of non-replicated clothing in her room, Janeway made a decision. If Q was moving in, so was she.

"We're going shopping once I get back from work today," Kathryn enjoyed the way Q's face slackened as he turned from scowling at her replicator to look at her the next morning. She smirked, sipped her coffee, "This place needs a little color and comfort. Your visit is the perfect excuse to add some."

Q rolled his eyes and grabbed his bowl of cereal - not sugary, because Kathryn had set parameters on the machine before going to bed last night. He didn't snap his fingers as he begrudgingly dug in and Kathryn felt a small bubble of triumph.

"Do you think I could pick up some clothes while we're out then?" Q asked, mid-bite. Janeway stared him down and he swallowed before speaking, "Your replicator doesn't have many options."

Janeway eyed Q's jeans and sweatshirt. "I'm surprised you don't just…" she snapped her fingers "…yourself some." Q fidgeted, fiddled with his spoon. "Q?"

"…I'm…uh…" He ran a hand through his hair. Janeway set her coffee down. Q's head shot up, big grin in place and shrug on his shoulder. "I'm just respecting your rules, Aunt Kathy. You said no powers, so. No powers!" Q gave her a thumbs up.

Janeway lowered her chin, eyes narrowed. "Try again." Q raised his hands to his chest, insulted. "You're not nearly as convincing as you think you are."

"I don't really think I'm that good actually..." Q sighed and his entire persona fell away. A slight frown and a furrowed brow were all that was left.

"Q?"

"It's nothing, Aunt Kathy, promise. I just don't want to use my powers right now." Q looked her straight in the eye this time. The pupils trembled just a touch and Janeway caught the wobble of his lips.

"Fine," Janeway drawled, eyebrows low. Q let out a breath and returned to his cereal. "I hope you'll tell me, eventually." Q kept his eyes diverted, but his cheerful little mask returned before she left for work.

Janeway didn't buy that any better than she had either of his explanations. Q was running away from more than just his father, of that she was certain. And, maybe even a little shocked. The day officially warranted a second pot of coffee.

#star trek voyager #ray writes #star trek fanfiction #captain janeway #star trek #fanfiction

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